Dark Enemy (DARC Ops Book 9) Page 10

  “No, we’re not,” Holly said, turning and walking out, still holding her face. Still no footsteps behind her. She moved faster to the stairs, running, and pausing only at the top of the second-story stairs. There was no one following her, and no one coming to rescue her, either.

  14

  Logan

  Declan had to hold him down a few times, restraining him, making sure that Logan stayed in their bunker while they listened with headsets to the variety of methods Andrei employed to demean and disrespect Holly. The comments were barely tolerable, Logan clenching his jaw at each snide sexual remark. But that fucking slap . . .

  He could hear it clearly and painfully through the hidden microphone. He knew it was the sound of Holly’s sweet face being whacked with the back of a man’s hand. He knew how badly it must have hurt, both her face and her pride. It was amazing that she didn’t react to it.

  He couldn’t help himself from reacting, lurching up out of his seat. He was tackled back down by Declan, a DARC SWAT associate who Logan had assumed more or less was dispatched to watch over the team’s loose cannon.

  “There’ll be a time for that later,” Declan said.

  “There’s time right now.”

  “No.”

  Logan fought out of his grasp. “We can rush in there and end it now.”

  “You can. I’m staying put.”

  Logan pushed free and held the headset over his ears, listening to an ominous silence on Holly’s end.

  “And it won’t even be ended,” Declan said. “They still have her cousin. You rush in now and pull some crazy stunt, and you can say goodbye to the hostage.”

  Logan knew that would also mean a goodbye to Holly, too. For one, she might not even survive the attack, or she’d likely become the newest hostage. But even if she had survived, and her cousin wouldn’t, would she want anything to do with Logan? No way in hell.

  A voice over the radio sounded. Tansy. “Alright, guys, she’s on the move. She’s leaving, and I think she’s leaving alone.”

  A wave of relief washed over Logan, but still the embers of hatred and vengeance burned in him. The need for revenge, but only after Holly and Beth had been taken care of.

  Declan said, “You ready?”

  “Yeah, let’s pack up and get the hell out of here.”

  He stuffed the fancy electronics into several metal cases, his mind working a little too fast for his liking. Skipping steps, rushing to worry instead of planning. He couldn’t separate himself from the case. Holly, the woman who he was fast realizing still meant the world to him, was under all kinds of stress and incoming threats. She wasn’t just another innocent victim. She used to be his very life. His everything. Maybe she still was.

  Logan led the two-man team down the staircase, wanting and needing to get to Holly as soon as possible. To see her first and make sure she was okay. Then see Andrei and make sure he was most definitely not okay.

  He and Declan had to cut through two more abandoned buildings, using them as cover until they came to the first meetup spot where he’d expected to find Holly. After a minute of waiting, their breathing finally slowing and easing, Jackson’s voice came on the radio to tell them to abort.

  “She’s already with us,” Jackson said. “Proceed to Base Camp Bravo.”

  Logan moved. He didn’t care where it would happen. He just wanted to see her.

  Holly was already waiting for them at the DARC headquarters. When Logan entered the briefing room, the first thing he did was check her face for any signs of a scratch or a bruise. But he had to be subtle about it, trying to focus more on her eyes than anything else. On those beautiful eyes . . . and a red splotch on the side of Holly’s cheek.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, coldly. Angrily.

  “Huh?” Logan said. “What’s nothing?”

  “You know,” she said. “You heard what he did to me.”

  Logan said, “I heard what you did. Good job.”

  One corner of her mouth crept up, almost into the beginning of a smile. Then it flat-lined, dead on arrival.

  “Your slap sounded a lot harder,” he added.

  “Thanks.”

  The door opened without a knock, and Logan knew it would be Jackson. He strolled in with a tired expression on his face, the DARC leader saying, “Alright, well, we got that over with.”

  He didn’t seem too pleased with how it went down. Holly, too, seemed less than excited about the USB exchange in addition to the exchange of slaps. Perhaps Godev really did have the harder slap. Who was he kidding? The guy was twice her size. Red tinged the edges of his vision again. What kind of asshole hit a woman? Logan’s teeth ground together. He knew exactly what kind. When this was all over, no matter what the outcome, he’d make sure that Andrei Godev never saw daylight again.

  Logan drummed his fingers on the table top, hoping the rhythm would translate to what he was about to say. But the words wouldn’t come. He at least knew to move off the subject of her getting slapped. For his own sake, too. He didn’t need to feel any more anger than what that bastard Godev had already stirred up in him. What he’d done to Holly . . .

  Jackson said, “Got anything to add to this, Tansy?”

  Logan hadn’t even noticed the hacker entering the room. Tansy walked over to their table, saying nothing, then snatching up the USB stick. He looked at it like it was some foreign object.

  Jackson said to him, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Tansy said. “I’ll get on this tonight. Might take the whole night.”

  Jackson turned to Holly. “Is there anything you want to let him know about the CIA system before he starts?”

  “That’s not necessary,” Tansy said.

  Holly said, “What if I tried helping? I mean, I’d like to try something.”

  “You already did a lot,” Jackson said. “That took guts.”

  And it was true. That kind of bravery, her grace under fire, was more than commendable. Logan watched her closely, trying to look past the mark on her face. Trying to forget what she’d just lived through. “You should try getting some sleep tonight,” he said. His voice was quiet, trying to keep the conversation between the two of them. He was sick of debating Holly’s every move—her future—with everyone. He wished so badly that they could just be alone, especially so immediately after the exchange. It was time for her to decompress, not sit through a briefing for these strange men. It was too much, whether they were helping her or not.

  “Well, then,” Jackson said, “are we going to go over this or not? We’ve got a lot of work to do, and a lot to analyze from your discussion tonight with—”

  “Jackson,” Logan said, interrupting his boss with perhaps a little too much gusto. “How about we give her a little break?”

  “A break?”

  “Do you really think she wants to go over this again? Right now?”

  Jackson frowned at him. “It’s not about what she wants to do, Logan. We have some serious—”

  “It’s about what’s best for her,” Logan said. “That’s what I care about.” He looked at Holly, to check her response. She’d been looking away, at no one, to what seemed to be the corner of the room.

  “So you’re speaking on behalf of what’s best for her?” Jackson said, an eyebrow raised.

  “Fuck yeah, I am.”

  “Holly,” Jackson said. “Is this true? Does Logan speak for you now? Power of attorney and everything?”

  Logan fought the urge to roll his eyes, and instead said, “Come on, Jack . . .”

  Holly turned back, the dead look in her eyes sending chills down Logan’s spine. “I just want to . . . I think I want to go.”

  “We can go,” Logan said. “It’s late enough. We can do this another time. Right, Jackson?”

  Tansy had walked out of the room without another word.

  Jackson stood and pushed his chair back under the table with a polite frown to Holly. “Take the night off,” he said, “to collect yourself.” It was clea
r by her silence that she wanted to be alone.

  “She’ll be back in action tomorrow,” Logan said. “Right?” He was looking at her, beginning to worry whether she wanted to really be alone. Without him. Alone tonight. He hated the idea of it.

  Logan thanked Jackson on his way out. That was when Holly finally spoke again, and said, “Thanks, Jackson. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Logan wanted to see her a lot sooner than tomorrow.

  “Hey,” he said softly, waiting for eye contact. “I don’t care if you think this is weird, but I really think you should spend the night at my place tonight.”

  “I don’t think that’s weird at all,” Holly said. She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m so tired I could probably fall asleep right here and now. Think that would be safe?”

  “I don’t know,” Logan said. “Maybe. I just don’t want you to be alone. Ever.”

  She scrunched her brows. “Ever?”

  “Do you need anything? Do we need to stop anywhere along the way?”

  “No, I just need this day to be over with.”

  “It’s probably been a little more action than what you’re used to,” he said. “And a lot of traveling.”

  “Normally, I just do all that from behind a computer screen.”

  “And normally,” Logan said, “that’s how you encounter the bad guys.”

  “Yeah, it’s easier that way.”

  “Maybe for you,” Logan said.

  “I think I’ve had it with this whole real-life thing . . . I can’t see how you can keep doing that. Flesh and bone. The threat of real violence.”

  Logan had to make sure his face didn’t give away his real thoughts, that he’d gone right back to listening to her getting slapped. She didn’t need to worry about him, too.

  “I mean, I handle all my conflicts through data. With you, it’s the real world. I sort of hate the real world, especially now.”

  He caught her gaze. “I’m really proud of the way you handled it.”

  “Thanks. It made me feel a little better knowing you were watching.”

  His lips firmed. He still hated that, even now that it was over. But maybe she would handle it better that way, if she knew he hadn’t seen it happen. “I couldn’t see any of it.”

  “But you could hear,” she said, wincing slightly. “I mean, you heard it.”

  “You know what I didn’t hear? You calling for help. You handled it like a real boss. I think Andrei thinks so, too.”

  She shrugged and then half smiled. “He’s got a lot more of that coming to him. Right?”

  “A lot more,” Logan said with a full smile. “You ready to get out of here?”

  “God, yes.”

  15

  Holly

  She had mixed emotions when seeing the repurposed warehouse that held Logan’s loft-style apartment. It reminded her a little too clearly of the old warehouse Andrei had repurposed for a clandestine meetup location. It was spacious, even cavernous. Tall ceilings to echo the sound of a slap to the face.

  On the other hand, his apartment was clean and well lit, and smelled deliciously of Logan. Maybe it was the pine floors. Her emotions were mixed, too, her mind flooded with memories. Though she never had any memories of him at his new apartment, standing there in the large open-plan room still brought her back to that time, a more innocent time, when they’d been dating. It reminded her, specifically, of that first night. Her convenient car trouble after the movie. An excuse to stay over and spend the night.

  It was similar to what Logan had done, minus the date beforehand. He’d made her decision to sleep over seem so logical and benign, just like he had in the past. She supposed that it was nice to have this bit of ordinariness come through. At least some things didn’t change. Just like the way he’d stacked about a weeks’ worth of dishes in the sink. Was that really the way he left his apartment before going away on a trip somewhere?

  “Sorry,” he said, pointing to the kitchen with a wince. “I know it’s terrible. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

  “You were probably still expecting to be in Mexico.”

  He grinned but said nothing else.

  “How long were you away for that?”

  Logan made his way into the kitchen, arriving at the fridge. “Not long enough for anything in this fridge to go bad. I hope.” He opened the door and laughed.

  “Do I even want to know?” Holly stepped around him to take a look at a mostly bare refrigerator, save for a few beers, a jar of salsa, and something in the vegetable crisper that she’d rather not know what it was, or what it used to be. “You know,” she said, “you actually need something in the fridge for it to go bad.”

  “I’ve got that lettuce in there,” he said.

  “It’s liquefying.”

  “Yeah. That’s the lazy way of juicing it.”

  “Gross . . .” She walked away from the fridge, feeling even less hungry than she had before seeing the liquefied produce.

  Logan was still lingering around the kitchen, threatening to try some home cooking. “Maybe I could whip you up a bowl of salsa?”

  “No thanks.” She found her way back to the sofa, collapsing onto it and letting out a big sigh. “Home at least, huh? I still can’t believe this. I can’t believe I’m here.”

  Logan, still at the fridge, said, “How about a beer?”

  “How about something a little stiffer?”

  For a split second he stared at her with a blank face, then said, “Hmm . . . I think we can probably do that.” Logan came back with two ice-filled glasses and bottle of whiskey. “This stiff enough?”

  She grabbed a glass. “So far, so good.”

  “How much?” He tilted the bottle to pour her some whiskey.

  “Go ahead,” she said, watching him pour. “All the way.”

  Logan chuckled. “One of those kinds of nights, huh?”

  “One of those kinds of fucking weeks,” she said, laughing as she took the cold glass to her lips. “Oh.” She stopped herself from drinking, offering to clink glasses with Logan before continuing on with the beginning stages of subduing her brain sufficiently to even try the process of forgetting, just for one night, for one hour, the horrors of the world. She could try forgetting in Logan too, in his pretty smile. In the halcyon memories they’d had together, in his old apartment.

  What was there for them in this new apartment? Safe refuge?

  Logan, without missing a beat, had called a local Chinese restaurant and ordered her favorite, broccoli mushroom stir-fry. He’d done this without even asking, as if she and her tastes had been transported back seven years. Their relationship, encapsulated forever in a remembered restaurant order. She wondered what else he’d remembered.

  The whiskey on rocks, certainly, was a new one. There had undoubtedly been a few new developments, the most dramatic of which was her cousin’s kidnapping. It had brought on a certain vulnerability that she’d never felt before, but she was glad to at least have Logan to feel it with. It was okay, under his watchful eye and in his protective arms. Though they’d been at arm’s length since the mission, he was still there. Still close by, still protecting her.

  She wanted him closer. Two drinks in, and Holly wanted those arms tightly around her, if just for a moment. If just for one little kiss.

  She shook the idea from her mind after taking another sip of straight whiskey, shaking away some of the queasiness, too. She wasn’t used to drinking strong alcohol like this, or feeling so tempted by a man. Her life and its impulses had always been controlled, managed, eschewed. She had CIA work assignments to be done, assignments long overdue, or at least some hacking project that could keep her hands and her mind busy.

  What would keep her busy now? For better or worse, the work of rescuing Beth had been placed squarely in the hands of DARC Ops. It was a relinquishing of power, but an inevitable one. Without them, she might not have even been able to brave the first meeting with Godev. She wasn’t used to this real-life shit. She was used to k
eeping her hands busy on a keyboard, and now that it wasn’t necessary, where would she keep her hands busy?

  “Feeling better?” Logan said. “Feeling hungry?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “Good.” He patted the sofa underneath them. “You can take the bed tonight. I’ll sleep out here.”

  She hadn’t even thought about it.

  Though she knew it was only a one-bedroom apartment. Spacious, yes, but only one bedroom. His bedroom. His bed.

  Where did she assume he’d be sleeping?

  “What’s wrong?” he said. “It’s comfy, I promise.”

  “The sofa? No, I like it.”

  “I know it’s a little old and lumpy. It’s ancient, actually. Do you even remember it?”

  “The sofa?” she laughed.

  “Would you believe I had it moved here from my old place?”

  “I’d believe it,” she said, despite actually having some difficulty picturing him schlepping the old piece of furniture so many miles. Especially since it had been so intimately tied up in her memory. It was hard to imagine it was the same sofa she’d sat on. Her cheeks heated. They’d done more than just sit on it. Why the hell hadn’t he gotten a new couch? “What’s the problem?” she said. “Jackson not paying you enough?”

  “I like it the way it is. Old and broken in. You know, you can’t get them new like that.”

  She couldn’t even bring herself to joke about some of the ways they had broken in that sofa. She looked down at it now in a whole new light. It should have, in a way, grossed her out, but like his arms, she felt an unexplained comfort and familiarity. A safe harbor in a stormy sea took many forms.

  “Refill?” he said, filling her glass again with another few ounces of the golden, potently aged whiskey. “Not that I’m trying to get you drunk or anything, but I think you need at least some sort of mind alteration.”